


Filthy

by EnInkahootz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Brother/Brother Incest, Brothers, Caught, Dean is age 16 through 18, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Hand Jobs, Getting Together, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Inappropriate Erections, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Peeping, Pining, Pining Sam Winchester, Porn, Praise Kink, Puberty, Romance, Sam is age 12 through 14, Self-Hatred, Sexual Fantasy, Shame, Shower Blow Jobs, Shower kink, Showering Dean Winchester, Showers, Sibling Incest, Taboo, Teen Angst, Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Romance, Teen Sam Winchester, Underage Blow Jobs, Underage Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Underage Kissing, Underage Masturbation, Voyeurism, Weecest, underage hand jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28196202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnInkahootz/pseuds/EnInkahootz
Summary: Adolescent Sam is too aroused by Dean's showers.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 272





	Filthy

Sam was twelve when it started.

“I’m gonna shower,” his sixteen-year-old brother Dean told him as soon as they arrived at their motel room, “I’m covered in dirt and werewolf blood.” Their dad was tying up some loose ends from the hunt he and Dean had just finished and had sent Sam and Dean ahead to wait for him at the motel.

“Kay,” Sam mumbled as he sat on one of the beds, kicked off his shoes and took a book out from his backpack. He began to read, and a few minutes later he heard the shower turn on. Sam tried to focus on his reading, but the problem was that Dean always left the bathroom door open a crack so the room wouldn’t get too steamy. Recently Sam had started to think about that fact too much, imaginings of Dean showering creeping suddenly into his mind at the most uncomfortable moments. He’d be listening to Dean talk, telling him what to do or not to do, and suddenly Sam would think of it: the sound of the water, the escaping steam, the cracked door and beyond it Dean’s naked, soapy body, water raining over him, dripping down his flesh as he cleaned himself… Sam would feel his face flush warm and his crotch stir demandingly. Sometimes he would get hard, rapidly and painfully, and have to find a way to hide the bulge in his pants. Dean would look at him funny and ask what the hell was wrong with him and Sam would rush to mumble, _“nothing,”_ when in truth he felt like _everything_ was wrong with him; he was a freak for thinking of his own brother this way. He was disgusting, and he hated himself.

Sam stared at the page in front of him, the words appearing meaningless amidst his rising lust. He struggled to repress his erection, desperately trying to think of anything else, anything but Dean. He failed, and shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He spent the remainder of Dean’s shower listening to the water run and trying not to picture the body it was landing on, the face, the hair… Sam’s own body was frozen, gripped by terror at the strength of his longing and afraid any motion would make his erection ache further. At last, the water turned off. Sam successfully forced his erection away, set down his book and rolled over, quickly pretending to be asleep so that he wouldn’t have to see Dean emerge from the shower with nothing but a towel around his waist. Sam squeezed his eyes shut as he heard Dean step out of the bathroom, but his mind betrayed him by picturing the sight so clearly that he grew erect once again.

~

Another hunt, another motel, another shower. Like he often did, their dad had left Sam and Dean alone for a few days while he hunted something else, something that he insisted they couldn’t help with. Sam wished their Dad was there to distract him from his wrong thoughts about Dean; it was always harder when Sam and Dean were alone. Sam was thirteen now and each day of puberty seemed to force his desire higher and higher, making him more and more miserable because it was only Dean he knew how to lust after. 

With dread, Sam watched Dean step into the bathroom. Dean, of course, left the door cracked as always, and a painful anticipation gripped Sam as he waited for the sound of the water turning on. He told himself that he waited for it so that he could focus on tuning it out - but then it began, and his mind was overtaken by an image of what the door concealed, what the thin shower curtain beyond it hid from view - and Sam knew that his true intention in listening so closely had been a vile one. He knew perfectly well what the water would make him picture. He knew perfectly well that there was no tuning it out. And worst still, Sam could not stop his mind from imagining opening the door, pulling back the curtain and seeing… 

Sam knew what Dean’s body looked like. They had casually changed in front of each other in countless shared motel rooms. As a child Sam found no discomfort in it, had thought nothing of it, but since puberty had begun each time Dean changed his clothes had become torture for Sam. He had to strain not to gawk at Dean’s perfect body, he had to try so hard not to look that it made him want to scream in agony. As much as he struggled to avert his gaze each time, Sam’s mind had managed to memorize every detail of Dean’s body. Sam wished he had never seen it in the first place; now the image lived in his brain, no matter what he did. He could picture every scar on Dean’s skin. He could picture Dean’s compactly brawny chest, his pink nipples and his toned stomach. He could picture Dean’s muscular thighs and the patch of softly curled pubic hair between them. He could picture Dean’s cock, large even when soft and -

Sam felt anger grip him as his own cock hardened; it was himself he was angry at, brutally, boundlessly rageful. He was a bad person and he deserved rage, deserved to be punished by the constant suffering of his longing. If he were a good person, this wouldn’t be happening. He would be getting boners over scantily clad women on TV, not over his own brother. 

Sam lay on the motel bed and stared at the ceiling, his erection pressing painfully to his zipper. He gritted his teeth and balled up his fists in an effort to control himself, but before he could stop it his hand had landed on his fly. He bit his bottom lip to stay quiet and rubbed himself through his pants for a minute before taking out his erection and wrapping his hand around it. He knew he should force his erection to go down, or at least force himself to think of someone or something other than Dean, but Sam felt as though he couldn’t do either. From his spot on the bed, Sam watched the steam spill from the crack in the bathroom door and allowed himself to picture the wet, naked Dean that was behind the shower curtain. He allowed himself to picture the scene, but at the same time he chastised himself for picturing it, sunk deeply into the ocean of his shame and self-hatred as he regretfully welcomed his lust.

_You’re a disgusting piece of trash,_ Sam thought to himself as he began to stroke his cock. Sam imagined Dean lathering his hair with shampoo, his arms moving with a masculine grace, the gentle curves of their muscles shifting with Dean’s motions. _Vile,_ Sam’s mind spat as he jerked himself, _how could you be so fucked up? How could you let this happen, you pervert?”_ He imagined Dean’s soapy skin, the drops of water dripping along the surface of his flesh in long, wet lines. _What the hell is wrong with you?_ his mind screamed, but Sam only pumped his hand faster, despising himself with every stroke. He imagined Dean’s hands running all over himself to spread the suds, touching every single part of himself and making it clean, even his cock, taking his soft cock into his soapy hand to tenderly wash it. _Freak, freak, freak!_ Sam’s mind accused him, and Sam knew it was true, but he didn’t stop pleasuring himself. He imagined - 

Suddenly the water turned off, and Sam knew Dean was soon to emerge from the bathroom. How humiliating it would be if Dean caught him, Sam thought, and at the image of it happening he came abruptly over his curled fingers, gasping and shuddering. Frantically, he reached for a tissue and cleaned off his hand. When he moved to shove his softening cock back into his fly, Sam noticed with horror that some of his seed had gotten onto his pants and the hem of his shirt. He wiped desperately at the fabric with a fresh tissue, but the wet spots remained, and Sam could hear Dean’s footsteps approaching the inside of the bathroom door. Would Dean notice the wetness on Sam’s clothes? Would he guess what it was? Sam could just say he spilled a soda - but in the terrifying moment during which the bathroom door creaked further open, Sam’s instincts made him scramble under the bedsheets and pull them all the way up to his chin.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked when he came out in his towel, chest exposed. Sam’s mouth went dry and his cock stirred again even though he had just come. “You’re going to bed? Dude, it’s like 4 pm.”

“Uh, um,” Sam stammered, “I didn’t sleep well last night. That motel had really hard beds. I’m gonna take a nap.”

“Oh, okay,” Dean replied casually, apparently appeased by Sam’s excuse. Sam rolled away from Dean and tried not to picture him getting dressed.

~

After he had done it once, Sam could no longer stand to hear Dean showering without jerking himself off. Sam hated himself for doing it and felt immensely guilty every time he looked at Dean, but he couldn’t stop. Even if their dad was in the motel room while Dean was showering, Sam would curl up under the covers, feign sleep and make himself come with a few quick strokes, his mouth pressed to his pillow to muffle any involuntary sounds. When their dad was elsewhere, Sam would lay back on the bed and savor the sin, aiming to time the length of his masturbation with the length of Dean’s shower, trying not to allow himself to release until the very moment the water turned off - then Sam would come, wildly and with a blissful shame, before cleaning himself up at speed, taking an appalling pleasure in the chance that he might move just a little too slowly and get caught by a shirtless, still damp Dean.

One evening when their dad was away, Sam was reclined on the motel bed with his cock in his hand. He was stroking himself and staring at the pillar of steam along the edge of the bathroom door as he listened to the maddeningly arousing sound of the water and imagined Dean’s body. It was so near. It was just beyond the cracked door. Sam could just open that door, open that curtain, reach out for Dean’s soapy cock… Would Dean stop him? Or would he want Sam to touch him, to pleasure him? No, of course not; how could Dean want him back? Brothers together was wrong, and disgusting, and Dean would know that. Besides, even if Dean didn’t care about the incest taboo, how could someone as amazing and sexy as him ever want an ugly freak like Sam? Still, Sam decided to pretend. He pretended that Dean would let him touch his cock, stroke him until he was hard in Sam’s hand. What kinds of noises would Dean make as Sam jerked him? Would he say Sam’s name? _Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,_ he imagined Dean moaning, and Sam almost came, catching himself on the very edge.

Sam stared intently at the steam as he stroked himself, slowly so that he wouldn’t come yet. He imagined the steam’s dampness and its warmth - the same dampness and warmth that encompassed Dean. If Sam were to stand in the steam, he and Dean would be in the same cloud, would be almost together. In a way Sam would be in the same place as the naked Dean, would be united with the object of his desperate desire. Sam told himself he should remain on the bed; what he was already doing was bad enough - but the steam called to him. He felt himself approaching further sin.

With a boldness driven by the frantic nature of his lust, Sam climbed off the bed and stepped nearer to the bathroom door, stepped close enough to breathe in the steam, to draw the cloud of their secret togetherness into his lungs, into his being. He promised himself that was as far as it would ever go; he would never look, would never peak through the crack, would never cross that line. Instead, he stood in the steam, eyes focused on the vapor, and pumped his cock until he spilled onto the floor, imagining Dean calling his name over and over, imagining Dean coming from his touch. Sam’s orgasm was the best one he had ever had, but a profound shame encompassed him in the moment that followed, and he hurried to clean his seed from the carpet, to erase the evidence of his repugnant misdeed.

~

Sam was fourteen, standing amidst the escaping steam outside the bathroom door and jerking himself, just like he did every time Dean was in the shower and their dad was elsewhere. Suddenly there was a banging sound as someone in the motel room next to theirs slammed a door, and it sent a vibration through the cheap walls that caused the bathroom door to creak open just a tiny bit wider. 

Sam froze, his pumping hand stilling. He had always promised himself that he would never look through the crack, no matter how painful it was to resist. He had always told himself that he would simply be grateful for the sound of the water, for the beautiful steam and for the thrilling proximity; he would seek nothing more. He would not violate Dean by spying on his showers. Sam already knew himself to be a disgusting freak, but actually looking, actually pleasuring himself as he watched what he had only before imagined, that would be a new low.

But, the door was open wider than it had ever been before and its pull on Sam’s longing was brutal. Maybe it was a sign, Sam pondered hopefully. Could it be a sign from God that brothers together wasn’t wrong after all? Or a sign from the universe that Dean wanted him too? Perhaps an invitation, somehow, from Dean’s subconscious? No, none of that made sense, and Sam knew he was just reaching for a way to justify giving in to his desire. _So you need further proof that you’re a freak?_ Sam’s mind said bitterly, _yeah, go ahead, look through that crack and know it’s true, know without a doubt that you are a perverted freak, a perverted freak is who you really and truly are, Sam, deep inside your core._ If it was who he really was, Sam decided, then there was no saving him and it did no good to resist. 

The instant the excuse came into his mind Sam latched onto it and gave in, angling himself until he could see into the bathroom. He was both elated and terrified to find that he could see straight through the gap at the edge of the shower curtain, could see directly into the shower, could see Dean…

Dean had one hand leaned against the wall and the other around his hard, sudsy cock. Beneath the running water and amidst the thick steam Dean was pumping his cock, his hips thrusting slightly and his breath heavy. _Dean was jerking off and Sam could see it._ At once Sam began to stroke his own cock again, eagerly matching Dean’s rhythm; it was rapid, and Sam almost came and had to still his hand for a few torturous moments before he could resume jerking himself. 

As Sam’s hand moved, he hurried to observe every detail of the scene. He wished he could get a close up look at Dean’s hand on his cock. He wished he could take Dean’s hand gently away and replace it with his own. He wanted to bring Dean pleasure, he wanted to jerk him, and he wanted to suck him. Sam pictured pulling back the curtain, stepping into the shower, kneeling before Dean and wrapping his lips around Dean’s cock; it was just like Sam had imagined countless times before, and it was perfect. He would make Dean moan. He would make Dean come. He would taste the proof of Dean’s pleasure on his tongue and Dean would tell him he had done a good job.

_Freak,_ Sam’s mind spat, _pervert,_ but a moment later Sam came, unable to wait for Dean as he hoped he would manage. Sam almost moaned involuntarily when he released and had to shove his fist into his mouth to muffle his passion. He spilled over his hand, then held his cock as it softened, watching until Dean came too, muttering a swear and thrusting decisively into his curled fingers.

~

Sixty or so showers later at another motel, Sam was hiding behind the cracked bathroom door and watching Dean wash his body. Sam was jerking himself, but Dean hadn’t started yet; he always cleaned himself first. Sam watched Dean wash each body part - arms, shoulders, chest, stomach, thighs, ass… He savored every movement Dean made. The way Dean touched himself before he got to jerking off was beautiful and innocent, and Sam felt wrong for sullying it with his lewd activity. He was always eager for Dean to finish cleaning and begin pleasuring himself, but at the same time Sam felt he could watch Dean wash forever, could get lost in the soothing glide of Dean’s hands over his skin. Sam imagined washing Dean’s body. He would be so thorough, so careful, and when Dean was all clean Sam would fall to his knees and -

Sam had made a sound. A short moan that came on too fast for him to stop it. He froze. Had Dean heard it or had the running water covered the noise? Sam hoped it had, but he knew Dean always kept an ear out for unexpected sounds, aware always that something might attack; so, it was with horror but not surprise that he watched Dean slip out of the shower and grab one of his guns. Dean began checking the steamy, blurry bathroom, gun raised, and Sam frantically tried to think of what to do but his mind was as frozen as his body and suddenly Dean had found him standing just outside the bathroom door.

“Oh, Sammy,” Dean spoke with relief as he lowered his gun, “it’s just you. I thought I heard -” Dean abruptly stopped his sentence when his eyes fell to Sam’s cock in his hand.

“Uh, um,” Sam said, feeling his face grow hot with embarrassment and a bizarre sort of arousal. He tried to shove his erection into his pants and fumbled. Then, for some reason, Dean stepped closer, too close.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean spoke softly as he set down his gun, “don’t be embarrassed.” Sam kept his gaze averted, unable to face Dean, but then he felt Dean’s hand land on his own hand, which was still failing to get his erection out of sight. “You don’t have to put it away if you don’t want to,” Dean said, and Sam felt his jaw drop. He released his own cock and felt as though the world was moving in slow motion as Dean wrapped his hand around it.

“You, you,” Sam stammered, not sure what he was trying to say.

“Shh,” Dean said, holding Sam’s cock in his hand, “don’t worry, Sammy, I’ll take care of you.”

“Dean,” Sam whispered, wanting to cry from his relief - Dean _did_ want him. How could it be? It seemed impossible. Suddenly Sam worried it was a joke. 

“Shh,” Dean said again, then began to gently stroke Sam’s hard cock. Sam felt dizzy with his lust, wanting to come as soon as Dean moved his hand. _Dean’s hand was on his cock._ Sam whimpered and Dean used his free hand to guide Sam’s chin until their gazes met. “I’m gonna take care of you, Sammy,” Dean said again, and as Sam looked up into Dean’s eyes, he could tell that it was no joke. It was, Sam decided, a miracle. He kept his eyes locked with Dean’s as Dean jerked him gradually faster. He let himself be lost in Dean’s green eyes, perfectly framed by his lashes and full of a gritty wisdom beyond his years; Dean’s eyes were playful and warm, but also heavy with dark echoes of all the terrible things he had seen in his young life. Sam could also see Dean’s current emotions: arousal, affection, and a sincere desire to give Sam whatever he needed.

“D-Dean,” Sam forced out, “is, is this pity?”

Dean’s face fell.

“No, Sammy,” he murmured, and then the strangest thing happened: Dean bent forward and kissed him. Dean _kissed_ him. Dean kissed Sam’s mouth, and it was the sweetest kiss and Sam started to cry. Dean drew his hand away from Sam’s cock and hurriedly hugged Sam to him. “It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean told him as he wiped away his tears, “want to stop? I’m sorry, I should have asked if it was okay and not just… I’m sorry,” Dean said, and though he always kept his cool Sam could see thick guilt in his eyes.

“No,” Sam rushed to say, ignoring his urge to lean his head into Dean’s hand, to lean tenderly into Dean’s touch and press his lips to Dean’s palm, “the tears, I’m, it’s, it’s because I’m so happy you want this too, so happy I can barely stand it. So please, please don’t stop, Dean, please Dean,” Sam begged. Dean smiled fondly at him and began to jerk him again. Sam panted and clutched Dean’s other hand, brought it to his mouth without thinking and kissed it over and over. Dean’s hand worked Sam’s cock with skill and Sam fought to last.

“Go on,” Dean finally said, “come for me, little brother,” and Sam obeyed, shooting his wet over Dean’s hand in a pure moment, a moment of satiation greater than Sam ever could have imagined. Dean leaned down and kissed him again in the moment that followed, and this time he used more pressure and slid his tongue gracefully into Sam’s mouth. Sam had never been kissed this way before and he melted into it so deeply, cherishing the sensations, that he forgot at first to kiss back, receiving Dean’s kiss with on open, pliant, motionless mouth. When he realized it, Sam kissed him back as best he knew how, pushing his tongue past Dean’s parted lips and moving it against Dean’s tongue. Dean slid his hand into Sam’s hair and Sam sighed against Dean’s mouth.

“Doin okay, Sammy?” Dean asked after the kiss, “feel good?”

“Yes,” Sam whispered, hugging Dean tightly, clinging to him, “so good, thank you, Dean.”

“Any time,” Dean replied, and Sam hoped he meant it.

“What about you?” Sam realized he should ask, “you okay too?”

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean said, voice heavy with emotion, and he kissed Sam’s hair.

“And what about…” Sam asked timidly, “I mean, you’re hard.” He could feel Dean’s erection pressed lightly between them.

“It’ll go down eventually,” Dean replied, “and I can jerk off later. Don’t worry about it.”

“N-no,” Sam said, “let me, let me take care of you too. Please.”

Dean shook his head.

“It wouldn’t be right for me to, you know, take advantage of you.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Sam spoke urgently, “I want to, please, please Dean, I, I want to, to suck you.”

Dean appeared alarmed.

“I don’t think I should say yes to that,” he said as though the words were painful to speak.

“Why?”

“Because you’re fourteen. And I’m eighteen. It’s one thing for me to help _you_ get off but, you know, I mean if I let you blow me it would be like I’m taking advantage, I mean,” he said, his voice growing almost breathy, “we can’t.”

“Please, Dean,” Sam implored him. He gripped both of Dean’s hands. “Please, please, I want to suck you so bad. You wouldn’t be taking advantage when it was my idea, when I’ve wanted to for so long, imagined it so many times... I mean, I don’t know if I’ll do a good job because I’ve never done it before but -”

“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean interrupted, “it would be your first time sucking dick? That makes it even worse. I can’t do this to you. I’m your big brother and I can’t just, just use you… no matter how much I want it.”

“If we both want it then, then please,” Sam begged, feeling hot tears fighting to form in his eyes from the strength of his yearning, “please let me, Dean I want to make you feel good, please let me make you feel good, I, I think about it all the time, I watch you in the shower and I imagine you let me blow you, let me make you come with my mouth, and, and,” the tears began to pool in Sam’s eyes and his voice broke, “p-please, please, Dean, I need to, I _need_ to,” he added, and he felt a flood of tears escape his eyes and spill down his cheeks.

“Shh, shh,” Dean said as he held Sam close, “don’t cry, Sammy, it’s okay, don’t cry.” He rubbed Sam’s back soothingly.

“Then you’ll let me?” Sam asked hopefully through the tears, “you’ll let me blow you?”

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean spoke softly, and he wiped away Sam’s tears.

Sam felt his face break into a grin.

“Can we do it in the shower?” he asked Dean excitedly.

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean said again, and Sam could hear the rising lust in Dean’s voice.

Hand in hand, the brothers entered the steamy bathroom. Dean was already naked, and Sam was terrified to realize he now had to remove his own clothes. He had failed to note that part amidst the heady desire he had come to associate with showers, blinded by the possibility of being in a shower with Dean, of acting out the fantasy he had played in his mind so many times. But now Sam had to bare himself, and he felt shy. He slowly removed his shoes and socks, then stared at them, trying to work up his nerve. It wasn’t that he wanted to hide from Dean, per say; it was that Dean’s body was perfect and Sam knew his own was ugly.

“You want to do it out here, so you don’t have to take off your clothes?” Dean asked gently, apparently reading Sam’s face.

“N-no,” Sam replied, “I want to be in the shower with you.”

“Then,” Dean said after a pause, “should I help you take your clothes off?”

Sam nodded and Dean began to remove Sam’s garments with slow movements. Sam held his breath, heart pounding, and prayed that Dean would like what he uncovered, even just a little. Dean removed Sam’s T-shirt, then undid Sam’s belt and helped him step out of his pants and boxer shorts. At last, Sam stood naked before him. He watched Dean’s gaze travel over his body. Dean’s eyes were wide and surprisingly lustful.

“Um,” Sam asked timidly, “it’s okay?”

Dean nodded and reached down and caressed a hand over Sam’s chest. He bit his lip as though he was overwhelmed by what he saw, and Sam couldn’t understand why.

“I like your body, Sammy,” Dean said hoarsely, then swallowed audibly with a darkly guilty expression. 

“That’s good,” Sam spoke gently, hating to see Dean unhappy, “I want you to like it.”

Dean nodded, then took Sam’s hand again and they both stepped into the raining warm water of the shower Dean had left running. Beneath it, Dean bent and kissed Sam’s lips again, and Sam felt like he kissed Dean back just a little more skillfully than last time; he hoped Dean was pleased with him. He smiled dreamily at Dean after the kiss and Dean smiled back at him so sweetly that it startled Sam for an instant. 

Sam couldn’t resist the idea of holding Dean’s soapy cock in his hand the way he had watched Dean hold himself in so many showers before, so Sam decided to wash Dean before he sucked him. He picked up the soap and created a lather in his hands. He reached slowly out and wrapped his sudsy hand around Dean’s enormous erection and gasped. Dean made a low sound and Sam stared at Dean’s cock as he glided his hand up and down the long, wide shaft.

“Sammy,” Dean whispered.

“It feels ok?” Sam asked as he stroked Dean’s slippery cock.

“So good,” Dean moaned.

Sam made a pleased hum. After a few more silky strokes Sam ran his soapy fingers carefully through Dean’s pubic hair and tenderly soaped Dean’s balls, then rinsed Dean’s cock and balls under the water. Sam got awkwardly onto his knees, wishing he had managed to drop down in one graceful, fluid motion instead, the way he always had in his fantasies.

“Are you comfortable enough like that?” Dean asked with concern, “Do your knees hurt? Don’t slip and fall.”

“I won’t,” Sam answered, “don’t worry,” he added, then lined his face up with Dean’s crotch. He wrapped his hand around the base and stared for a long moment, overwhelmed by a mix of longing to proceed and worry that he wouldn’t do a good enough job. “Tell me if I do anything wrong, okay Dean?” he asked.

“Don’t worry, Sammy,” Dean answered in his most reassuring tone, “I know I’ll love it no matter what you do. Just do whatever you enjoy, kay?”

Sam nodded, feeling a tingle of confidence. He decided to begin by pressing his lips to the tip, knowing from his own body that it was a sensitive spot. Dean swore and rushed to lean a hand against the wall beside him to support himself as his body jerked. Sam felt keen elation; it was a bliss beyond anything Sam had ever imagined to draw an utterance and movement of passionate pleasure from his big brother’s body. Sam began to cover Dean’s cock in soft kisses, nearly worshiping it, never wanting to stop.

In time Sam worked up the nerve to use his tongue. He lapped at the head, then licked methodical lines all around the shaft. When he had covered every spec of hard flesh with his tongue, Sam pulled back and looked up at Dean’s face. Now that it was time to spread his lips, Sam was once again nervous that he would do a bad job. 

“It feels so fucking good,” Dean told him, “Sammy, I can’t believe you’ve never done this before.” He gave Sam a deeply reassuring smile and Sam felt better. He curled his fingers around the bottom half of the shaft and opened his mouth wide. Heart pounding, he took the top half of Dean’s cock into his mouth.

“Oh fuck, oh Sammy,” Dean grunted, “your mouth feels so good, fuck, fuck.”

Dean’s praise made Sam’s own cock throb; it was hard again despite Sam’s recent orgasm. He ignored it as best he could manage so that he could focus on pleasuring Dean. Sam began to bob his head, pushing his mouth on and off of Dean’s cock, gradually lowering his hand and taking more and more of Dean’s length into his mouth. Sam was disappointed to realize that he didn’t know how to take it all the way down without gagging, and he kept his curled fingers over the last portion of the shaft and moved his hand in unison with his bobbing head. He hoped he would have the nerve to ask Dean later exactly how people took cocks down the backs of their throats. 

For now, Sam did the best he could, and based on the sounds Dean was making Sam decided he must be doing well. He was immensely pleased with himself for pleasuring Dean so, and he made a moan of delight around Dean’s cock. Dean swore and lightly gripped Sam’s hair and it made Sam’s free hand fly almost against his will to his own cock.

“Yeah, fuck yeah, Sammy,” Dean moaned, “jerk yourself while you suck me, we can come together if we’re careful.”

Sam began to stroke himself, moving his hand much slower than he wanted to so that he could wait for Dean. The warmth of the water against his skin, the rhythmic sound of the thin, raining streams, the firmness of Dean’s cock in his mouth, the richness of Dean’s moans and the wildly, profoundly arousing steam - every sensation made Sam yearn to release. He bobbed his head as fast as he could, not wanting it to end but needing to come so badly he was afraid he might cry again. He hurried to bring Dean to the edge yet managed to still savor the experience of sucking him, finally, and everything felt perfect.

“Sammy,” Dean finally groaned, “let’s come soon,” and Sam made a moan of desperate agreement around Dean’s cock. “Fuck, Sammy,” Dean said with fervor and then, “okay, now, come now, fuck, Sammy, Sammy,” and as he spilled onto Sam’s tongue Sam spilled ecstatically over his own hand, his seed dripping down to mix with the soapy water that had pooled on the shower floor. Sam swallowed Dean’s seed with delight, memorizing the taste and feeling at one with his brother.

“Oh Sammy,” Dean breathed as he came down from his climax. He helped Sam up and kissed his lips with a tender passion, holding their naked bodies close under the water. “Sammy,” Dean said after the kiss, “you did so good,” and Sam felt as though he was glowing with the warm light of his raw, keen joy.


End file.
